


George Learns the Truth

by ship_of_fancy



Category: Beatles, The Beatles
Genre: F/M, Regret, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:33:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ship_of_fancy/pseuds/ship_of_fancy
Summary: George discovers Eric has been abusive towards Pattie
Relationships: Pattie Boyd/Eric Clapton, Pattie Boyd/George Harrison
Kudos: 6





	George Learns the Truth

That Eric would be violent towards me was a deep dark secret that I shared with no one. Not even my sister, Jenny. I couldn’t face the fact that after all the years of chasing me, he wasn’t the loving man I had imagined. If I had bruises, I was sure to wear clothes that covered them. I couldn’t bear the idea of people knowing life with Eric was far from perfect. I’d given up on a man who was loved by everyone, for a guy who I soon found out didn’t have many real friends. Alcohol and drugs and a huge lack of coping strategies ensured that a small misunderstanding could blow up into a huge fight. The abuse, both verbal and physical brought back all the horrors of my childhood, and I felt as hopeless as I had under my step father’s reign of terror.

One day I was alone at Hurtwood. Hurtwood wasn’t like Friar Park, which always had people in and out. If Eric was on tour or gone to London I’d be on my own for days at a time. Maybe the cleaning lady would come but that would be about it. I remember it was summer and I was was alone and expected no company. It was a beautiful warm day and I decided to sun myself in the garden. Nothing like a good dose of sunshine to help chase the blues away.

The sun was warm on my face when I heard footsteps on the path and I opened my eyes surprised to see George. 

“Darling! What brings you here? Eric’s at the studio.” George bent down to kiss my cheek hello and then he pulled a chair close and sat down. I’d forgotten the huge bruise on my thigh where I’d been knocked into the dresser or the five bruises on my upper arm obviously made by a hand gripping me in anger. I was a little shy bring in a bathing suit now that George and I were no longer married and I reached for my robe.

“Pattie, what the fuck.” George put a tentative finger on the contusion that covered the top of my leg. 

“Oh you know how clumsy I am. I walked into something,” I vaguely tried to explain.

“And these?” He gently held my arm and his fingers matched up perfectly to the black and blue marks. “I suppose you just walked into someone’s hand.”

“How long has this been going on?” George demanded to know. And knowing I couldn’t lie my way out, I started to cry. 

George sat there in the garden and held my hand and let me cry. Once I started I just poured it all out, but as usual made excuses. Eric was drunk. I’d been a nag. On and on. Finally we went inside and George made us tea and we sat at the kitchen table and he told me to pack up my things. “You aren’t staying here,” he said. “Come home.”

I laughed. Friar Park hadn’t been my home for almost ten years. “You have a wife. You’re not allowed two. I don’t think that will quite work out.” I took a deep breath. “But thank you. It means a lot to me.” 

George hung out a while and then he left. While I appreciated his concern, what could anyone do to help me when I couldn’t even help myself?

The next day a courier brought me a letter with a cheque for £6000. From George. “Getaway money” and the om symbol were on the enclosed card. I hid the cheque in a book knowing Eric would be furious if he ever saw it. 

Then a few days later Eric came home. He was quiet. Not much to say. I went to bed in my own room not knowing really what to do. Not wanting to be with him, but not wanting to incur his wrath, either. To my surprise, he stood in my doorway and said he was sorry. “I won’t hurt you again,” he said quietly before walking down the hall to our bedroom.

He never did hurt me physically again. He still screamed and had tantrums. He’d throw my clothes out the window and tell me to get out, but he never pushed me or shoved me. Of course, life was still hellish. While we could still have good times, Eric was a far worse cheat than George. And while I couldn’t get pregnant, he had children by two different women. Years later, after George had died, I saw Eric in London. Sober Eric with a family was quite different from the man I had been married to. He even apologized for being such a drunken ass all those years. “It was wrong of me to get physical. I still feel guilty.” 

“What did George say to you?” I asked him after we’d been talking awhile. 

“He said he’d kill me if he ever saw a bruise on you again,” Eric said. He looked at me over the rim of his glass of mineral water. “I believed him.”

I never did cash that cheque. It’s a reminder of what you do for those you love. 


End file.
